


Breaking Promises

by Twas_Brillig_and_slithy_toves



Series: Secrets and Hidden things [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Dick Grayson Angst, Dick Grayson Has Issues, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt No Comfort, Mentions Blockbuster, Mentions Catalina Flores(Tarantula), Post Nightwing 93, Trigger Warnings, mentions Wally West - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23649682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twas_Brillig_and_slithy_toves/pseuds/Twas_Brillig_and_slithy_toves
Summary: Dick is having a difficult night when his demons won't go away.
Series: Secrets and Hidden things [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1880539
Comments: 3
Kudos: 115





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Triggers: self-harm. Self-harm in a sort of idealized way. Please don't read if this will trigger you.

It was raining just like it had been that night, and the rain made his skin crawl in the way that it never used to, but he couldn't focus on that, not if he wanted to keep sane. Not if he wanted to keep being Nightwing. Not that he was doing a great job of that at the moment. Dick had ended his night early due because of the rain and how it was messing with his head. The only comfort he had was that crime levels in the street also tended to go down during storms.

Dick was drinking coffee as he kept alternating looking at the falling rain and then looking away, trying to focus on anything else. It was too late at night to be drinking coffee, even if he had ended it earlier than most. He ignored that as well because as much as he didn't want to think anymore, he also didn't want to dream because on stormy nights he only ever dreamt of one thing.

He needed a distraction. If it was day, he would probably exercise but most of his exercising regiment usually made noise and his neighbors had already called multiple times to complain about noises in the early hours, so that left that out.

He could talk with one of his fellow bats but A: they were probably still on Patrol and B: He would have to explain why he was having a problem. While they generally knew about what happened to Blockbuster, they had no idea that it was affecting him so much...or what happened after...Nothing happened after. Dick reminded himself again. Dick turned his head to the window as the rain pattered more loudly and quickly against his windows and he shut his eyes tightly as memories tried to make their way into his mind. He stood up from the table and started to pace, he had to do something- anything to stop his mind from going back there, because nothing had happened, nothing could have happened.

Blockbuster's face flashed through his mind and then Tarantula's. Dick vigorously shook his head, no he couldn't be lost in these memories.

Weapons training. There had to be one that was quiet enough, just something- anything to distract him. He opened up a panel and there was a long range of weapons he had to choose from, of course, his eyes focused on his knives. Dick didn't use them much as he was more experienced and it was easier to bring and conceal his wingdings but he trained with them sometimes. Training with the knives wasn't what was on his mind though.

Dick picked up a knife, despite his instincts screaming at him that it was a bad idea and shifted it slightly so that the light glinted off its edge. He hadn't thought about it in years. It had been so long since he had dealt with this urge that he almost forgot what it felt like but here it was back again and worse than any time he could remember as a teenager. It would definitely distract. It would definitely, if only for a short time, make him feel something else other than this feeling that if he didn't do something soon that he was going to fall apart at the seams. But he had made a promise long ago, not to what his hands were itching to do.

A promise to a dead man, some dark corner of his brain reminded him. A new spike of agony joined the others. Wally was dead. His fault. It was his fault. Blockbuster was his fault. And Tarantula...he couldn't think about what happened with Tarantula- he couldn't he just couldn't. He bit his lip, at first slightly but then more and more till he could actually taste the coppery liquid in his mouth. Dick felt a slight sting of pain but it wasn't enough, it wasn't enough to stop the thoughts, the memories, the feelings. But he had promised, promised Wally that he would never hurt himself again. Promised him back when he was a teenager, after Bruce fired him and before he had become established as Nightwing. Dick had been struggling figuring out he was without Bruce, without Batman without being robin. Dick hadn't done it, not in all that time. But Wally was dead and no one else knew. Wally had told him to tell one of his brothers but he had never been able to, so the only person who ever knew he had struggled with this, the only person he could even talk to about this, without explaining was gone.

"Wally.." he said aloud as he touched the knife's edge lightly. "I'm sorry." Sorry that Wally was dead, sorry that it was Dick's fault. Sorry that he hadn't been able to tell his brothers before all of their relationships seemed to have fallen apart. Sorry that he was about to break his promise. "I'm really sorry," Dick whispered as he moved the knife over to his upper arm, next to where he was pretty sure the old group of scars had been. His body was so scarred, it was hard to tell for sure, another reason it had been easy to pass off his scars as being from his time on the force when he and Bruce had patched things up again.

"I really am sorry," he said as his knife pierced his skin and he dragged it downwards, imagining an angry Wally looking down on him but soon that image along with all the other faded as pain soon became the only thing in his mind. Dick knew it was wrong and he knew he was putting himself back in the terrible place he had been in before and struggled so hard to escape from, but in that moment he didn't care, because in that moment he didn't have to focus on anything but the pain. The pain was the only thing that was real.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story now has a companion called Guilt. Both stories take place together around the same time. The only difference is Breaking Promises is from Dick's point of view and Guilt is from Wally's. I might add more but I'm going to keep it complete since I don't know how many more of these I'm going to add.

He was fine. He was fine. He was fine. Lather built up between his finger and hands as he kept rubbing his hands together. He was fine. Everything was fine. Nothing was wrong. Everything was fine. Nothing was wrong. Nothing was falling apart.

He ground his fingers against his other hand with a little more force. He could breathe, of course, he could breathe, because there was no reason that he wouldn't be able to breathe. It was okay. It was okay. Everything was okay. 

Of course, it would be easier to believe that if his breath wasn’t coming out harshly and his hands weren’t slightly stinging. It had to be okay because he couldn’t not be okay. He had to be okay. He was Nightwing. The first Robin he was better than this, whatever this feeling was. Whatever it was doing to him, he was better than it. Nothing was happening! __

_ Blood _ .

He swallowed harshly and felt a soreness in his throat that hadn’t been there before. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered. Nothing other than being okay. 

_ Callado _ . 

Why couldn’t he be okay?

_ Pitter-patter on a tin roof.  _

He felt like screaming! Falling to the ground and just lying there and like breaking the mirror in front of him all at once. His chest heaved and his heart hammered so fast in his chest. It felt like it was trying to break free of his rib cage. He had to be okay! He had to be okay! He had to breathe!

A loud crack sounded and Dick focused on the sound intently, only to realize it wasn’t the mirror it was just the door opening with a bit more force than normal. A guy darted in and immediately passed him heading for a stall. 

Focus. Focus. The sink. The mirror in front of him, the one he refused to look at, not wanting to see how much of a mess he looked at. The door. The bright slightly off white bright lights. His hand-no he didn’t want to focus on those. The black bathroom stalls just to his right. He was pretty sure that someone in the third stall was doing drugs. The bar was not super classy but it wasn’t just a dive bar either, but thankfully no one else was in the bathroom but him and the guy in the stall. 

Focus. Soap on his hands... and maybe blood-no just soap. That’s all--soap. Just soap. He closed his eyes. Soap. The cool draft that seemed to be coming in from underneath the door that led back to the club. Dick moved his feet slightly and felt the slightly tacky floor stick to his shoes a bit. Water rushed over his hands but he swiftly ignored it.

Focus. He had to focus. The sound of the door had made as it had frantically snapped open. The sound of the loud snort Dick had heard in the stall about ten seconds later. There was a somewhat loud humming also in the room which could be the lights or the heating. And the water-

Focus. What could he smell? What could he smell? For one urine. Although they were relatively clean bathrooms, it was a bar and there was probably always going to be some inebriated man with poor aim. The other strong smell was the disinfectant used liberally to try to combat the first scent. 

He could taste the remnants of his gin and tonic that he had only had a few mouthfuls of still sticking in the corners of his mouth. Dick licked at the corners for a few seconds before stopping. 

Stopping everything. 

Every movement including his hands. His body felt like it weighed hundreds of pounds, he refused to look at his hands though even as they stung. Knew that if he looked at them, it might start again. He put his hands down by his body and managed to turn off the facut without looking closely at the sink. He focused on his lungs and on taking a deep breath into his lungs. This time, his lungs seemed to cooperate and breathe with him though it was still faster than normal, no matter how much he tried to slow it down. But at least, his heart no longer seemed to be trying to exit his chest, even if his pulse was still racing. He closed his eyes again and put one hand on his heart and the other on his chest where his lung should be. He focused on breathing as deeply as he could force himself to. 

“Dude, you okay?” Dick’s eyes snapped open and his pulse that he managed to slow quite a bit in the last few minutes spiked again. Dick’s eyes searched for the owner of the voice. It was the guy who walked past him. The druggie. The druggie wanted to know if he was okay? 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” tumbled from his mouth automatically without thought. 

“Your hands are bleeding” Dick’s eyes automatically caught the first glance of his hands and found the addict was right. He had really rubbed his hands raw. There was a small rivulet coming from between the knuckles of his left hand between the ring and middle fingers. There was also a decent size wound on the back of his right hand, just above the wrist. His nails must have repeatedly attacked the area since it took up almost his entire back of his wrist. 

Dick realized after a moment that he hadn’t responded. 

“Must have reopened a wound,” he said, grabbing a few handfuls of paper towels to cover them from view, as well as soak up any blood. He hoped his facial features had grouped into the one that said, ‘ There’s nothing wrong and I am totally trustworthy’. Apparently, it bore enough semblance to it, or the man was high enough that it didn’t matter because the man nodded several times and then dashed back out the door, leaving Dick alone, again. 

His hands trembled slightly but he grabbed firmly to the edge of the sink, the paper towels still sticking to his hands. He was fine. It was just a weird...strange thing that didn’t mean-

He hung his head. It was stupid to react so much...too much. He had never had a visceral reaction to this particular stimulus before. It was fine. He was fine. Why had it bothered him so much when it used to only make him embarrassed but he had always been able to play it cool like it wasn’t anything before. It wasn’t anything, he reminded himself. Just extreme flirting with people who had slight issues with boundaries. Not a big deal. It was fine. 

Dick stood up straight and looked down at his hands. After moving the paper towels, he discovered that the streams had stopped and threw away the towels in the trash. He checked his reflection in the mirror just long enough to make sure the makeup was still there and everything looked like it should before he exited the bathroom. 

The sounds of the bar were louder on this side. He didn't drink much, had never been much of a drinker but a couple of his coworkers had asked him if he wanted to come out tonight. Even though he knew he should be working on Nightwing cases, he couldn’t find it in him to say no. He should have said no...No it was fine. Everything was fine. He was just too sensitive. He had made his way halfway back to his group when he saw her. 

Dick just barely managed to only stumble once as the blond girl in the pink tube top smiled at him from across the way more than little suggestively. She had grabbed his ass on his way to the bathroom. It shouldn’t have affected him so much. There was no reason for him to react so viscerally. He used to get it all the time, especially from rich socialites. It shouldn’t have bothered him. 

He rejoined his friends at the bar and was able to make it an hour before he made some excuse to go home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Another one came to mind, although it’s a bit short.

His ribs were a little sore as he shoved his Nightwing suit into a duffle bag and then tossed it under his bed. It wasn’t like anyone was going to find it under there, Although he could hear a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Bruce telling him to put it back in its proper case in the wall, he ignored it. 

Dick felt his tender ribs with some regret. Another criminal had been able to get a good kick in before he had been able to connect. He refused to look at it in a mirror, refused to see if there was a bruise there or if just felt sore. In fact, he had removed the mirror that used to be in his bedroom leaving the only remaining mirror in the bathroom. 

Dick gave a longing glance at his bed. It looked so soft with its Nightwing blue fluffy pillows and warm comforter it was very inviting and all Dick wanted to do was fall into it even if he wouldn’t actually be able to sleep for a few hours. But he didn't, instead, he changed into some workout clothes. He didn’t shower because he was just going to get sweatier anyway but he did pull on a sweater and flipped the hood up to hide it a little better. He had come up with a productive way to keep himself busy in the early morning hours after patrol and before he slept, since it was time he wasn’t sleeping anyway... and the busier he was the less likely he was to put a knife through his skin. 

No, it was best not to think about that, he chastised himself as gabbed a duffle and headed back out having just barely come in, briefly lamenting as he opened the door how much less he was seeing his apartment than he used to. 

It didn’t take him too long to get to his destination. More and more of the 24/7 gyms were popping up around Bludhaven, though usually in the nicer areas of the city. He had joined a few weeks ago. With his neighbors complaining about late-night noises without moving, this was the best option he had. Plus, there weren’t many people there early in the morning. Usually at best one or two to brave coming out in the dark in a city like Bludhaven. Sometimes, it was even completely deserted except for one employee which was honestly his preference. 

“Hey Dennis,” he greeted as he walked through the lobby. He liked Dennis. In terms of being a good employee, he was not. 90% of the time Dick had ever seen him after signing up he was watching something on his phone and not paying the slightest bit of attention to people actually using the gym. Which honestly just increased the draw of this particular gym for Dick. 

“Hey, Dick.” The guy said without glancing up from his phone. Dick was the one regular for this time in the morning, even though he had learned the name of the few people besides him that occasionally liked to use the gym this early in the morning. 

He was slipping. Bad guys, no matter how hard he tried, kept being able to hit him. There was only one guy other than Dick and the employee Dennis, and that guy didn’t even look up from the screen of the treadmill he was running on, thankfully. It was preferable to go under the radar.  ~~ He didn’t like it when people looked at him ~~ . He should just move to a different place with thicker walls but the very thought just made him feel even more tired than bench-pressing while already fatigued did. But it didn’t matter how tired he was, how much his body ached and longed for rest. Because he was failing at being Nightwing and that was unacceptable. He had to do better. He had to be better. He had to be perfect. He couldn’t not be perfect.  ~~ He wasn’t perfect. He wasn’t even good, he was a killer who hadn’t stopped ~~

\- He pushed even harder to bring up the weight in his hands, wincing while also relieved that the pain in his arms was distracting, pushing out the other thoughts. He just had to try harder. Be better. Not a failure. 

As time went on, the other machines started to fill up with people who wanted to get a work-out before work. Once the machines were about half-way full, Dick knew it was time to go home, sleep for a few hours and start all over again. 


End file.
